


the little things i'd do to lose you again

by larrymaybe22



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Ambiguous/Open Ending, American AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Niall Liam and Zayn mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 01:04:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15474090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrymaybe22/pseuds/larrymaybe22
Summary: Louis wishes he could erase the look of defeat and regret painted over Harry’s face from his memory.“I think maybe we just found each other at the wrong time.”“No,” Louis shakes his head, “There’s never been anything wrong about us. You can’t just call the last two and half years wrong.”Or, the one where being in love isn't always enough the first time around.





	the little things i'd do to lose you again

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first crack at a Larry fic, so I hope I wrote something decent. Please let me know what you think, I'd love to read your comments. Thanks, loves. :) 
> 
> Disclaimer: I adapted this from a short story I wrote a while ago, so some details don't align with canon in order fit the certain timeline I had lined up. Also, Harry's song is This Is Why I Need You by Jesse Ruben (I obv. don't own the song but this is pretend lol)
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Title from the song Evergreen by Honeywater

**SEPTEMBER**

 

The clock has only just hit twelve, however the dreaded lunch rush has been in full swing for at least twenty minutes. Apron-clad Starbucks employees rush about, churning out drinks and bagels rapidly, background noises consisting of steam machines and the clanking of cups against stainless steel countertops. Students and faculty alike pour into the café. Purple-bagged eyes search for open seating, while the stressed and heavy-footed shuffle in line. Fleetwood Mac’s _Dreams_ can be heard softly filtering through the speakers.

 

A barista parts her way through the chaotic waves of workers behind the counter and sets down a singular drink atop the handoff plane.

 

“One grande iced latte with coconut milk! Decaf!”

 

The barista makes her way back to her post, while two separate hands grip the drink.

 

Two young men stand at the handoff plane, startled, looking up from their touching fingers. One of the two steps back, withdrawing his hand with an apology already on his tongue.

 

“Oh! I’m sorry.”

 

The other boy, eying the first, laughs gently in response. “No worries. Is that one yours?”

 

“I’m not sure,” chimes the first, tucking a loose chocolate strand behind his ear, “did you order a decaf coconut milk latte, too?

 

“I did,” the second replies, “though, I’m not sure I’ve come across anyone else with that specific order before.” He smiles at the curly-haired boy standing across from him. He is cute.

 

Curly picks up the drink and inspects the cup. “Aren’t they usually supposed to put your name on these so this exact situation doesn’t happen?”

 

“I think so. Though, this time I can’t say that I mind.”

 

Blushing, the curly-haired boy holds out the drink for the shorter brunette of the pair. “Here, you can take it. I don’t mind waiting for another.”

 

“Oh, no, you go ahead. You reached for it first. And well, considering you’re already the one holding it I’d say your claim has already been staked.”

 

They both laugh, eyes bright.

 

The barista returns, another drink appearing on the handoff plane.

 

“I have another grande decaf iced latte with coconut milk!”

 

The shorter brunette scoops up the second drink, sipping gingerly before smiling back taller boy. “There, problem solved then.”

 

The first boy dramatically wipes a hand across his forehead, wispy curls now slightly askew. “Phew! Glad that’s settled then. I was afraid we’d have fight on our hands.”

 

The second man barks a startled laugh. Without much thought, he reaches up to fix the shiny brown strands sticking up out of place, their owner’s eyes following the movement.

 

  
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m a lover and not a fighter.”

 

“Me too.”

 

The two men stare and smile back at each other. It was slightly awkward, but not entirely. A woman tries to reach around them for her drink and they shuffle apologetically to the side.

 

“I’m going to grab that free table over there before someone else snatches it,” the shorter boy gestures toward the table in question by the windows, biting his lip, “Would you want to join me?”

 

The taller boy’s smile widens. “Yeah, sure,” he extended the hand not clutching his drink outward, “I’m Harry.”

 

“Louis.”

 

Louis shakes Harry’s soft hand and they sit down at the table. Neither man touch the bags they brought with them – they become lost in conversation. They don’t leave their spot by the window until three hours later.

 

…

 

 As far as first dates go, this one is spectacularly bad. Everything that can possibly go wrong, decides that it will. To start, Louis’ keys mysteriously go missing two minutes before he has to leave, resulting in missing his bus, resulting in being nearly twenty-five minutes late to pick up Harry at his apartment. Next, the restaurant they chose loses their reservation and the two have to wait an extra half hour for another table to open on such a busy Saturday night. Louis spills red wine all down the front of his white shirt. Despite asking for no cheese in his entrée, Harry eats half of his meal before realizing there is, indeed, cheese present. This leads to an embarrassing mad-dash to the restroom during their dessert. They haven’t made it ten feet down the street afterward before Louis trips on an exposed crack in the pavement, sending him tumbling to the ground. Harry throws his head back in surprising laughter at that one, helping a grumbling Louis to his feet before asking a nearby vendor for some napkins for the blood. By the time they arrive back at Harry’s apartment door, both men are sufficiently embarrassed, each of their heads too full with their own anxieties about the night to notice the charm present their own eyes.

 

“Well,” Louis huffs, “I think that was definitely the most disastrous date I’ve ever been on.” 

 

Harry nods his head in agreement, “One for the books, surely.”

 

“I’m really sorry. I promise this stuff doesn’t normally happen to me. I’m actually a fairly cool person…”

 

There’s a slight curve to Harry’s lips, as if he’s holding back a laugh slowly forming. “No need to apologize. The more I think about it, the whole night was pretty hilarious.”

 

Louis’ own smile returns, chuckling. “It kind of was, wasn’t?”

 

“I think you just make me nervous.”

 

The confession rings through Louis’ ears, eyes glancing down briefly to the lips that spoke them.

 

“Glad I’m not the only one then.”

 

It’s silent for a second. It’s at that point in the night of a first date that’s always awkward – the few seconds of limbo wondering whether a goodnight kiss will take place. Neither Louis nor Harry really feel they deserve one following such a failure of a date. Although, standing there in hallway, none of that seems to settle their curiosities. 

 

Harry clears his throat, breaking the moment.

 

“Um, you’ll want to clean your knee when you get home or it’ll get infected.”

 

Louis takes his eyes away from his curly-haired date to look down at the bloodied stain on his trousers. “Oh, yeah. I will, thanks.”

 

Giggling, Harry’s playful smirk returns. “At least we know your gravity works. One second you were there, then _boom,_ you’re completely out of my peripheral vision. I’ve finally found someone clumsier than I am.”

 

“Ugh,” Louis face-palms and laughs self-deprecatingly.

 

“Hey, hey,” Harry says, still giggling. He removes Louis’ hand from his forehead, their hands now loosely clasped between them. Harry doesn’t move to let go. “Look, tonight was a mess, but I still had a really good time.”

 

Louis bites his lip to keep himself from smiling too widely. “I had a great time, too. Besides, tame first date stories are boring. I don’t want to be boring.”

 

Harry throws his head back in laughter. “Good. Fuck boring.”

 

They’re silent again, smiling way too hard at each other for a moment too long and it’s that lull again.

 

To kiss or not to kiss?

 

Ten seconds pass, twenty. Thirty.

 

Louis finally let’s their hands fall, clearing his throat.

 

“Um, I guess I’ll just –” He begins to back away down the hallway.

 

Harry’s smile falters a bit, but he isn’t upset.

 

“Okay. Goodnight, Louis.” He opens the door of his apartment and begins to walk inside.

 

“Harry?”

 

“Yeah?” The taller man turns around just in time to be met with a soft pair of lips on his own. The kiss doesn’t last long, but it’s sweet and despite everything else that went wrong, this part of the night definitely feels right.

 

The kiss breaks and Louis takes a step back, both men looking back at the other, dazed and a little bit smitten.

 

“Goodnight, Harry. I’ll text you later?”

 

Nodding and smiling, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

 

…

 

 

“Can you pass me some grapes?”

 

Harry sits up slightly from his position on the blanket to pluck a few grapes from their plastic container. Pivoting his torso to his other side, he leans on his elbow, dropping grapes into Louis’ mouth one by one.

 

“Mm, thank you.”

 

Harry giggles and returns to his lying position, staring up at the sky through his shades. They lay side by side on their picnic blanket – food, drinks, and various board games and books scattered around. The sun is shining bright today, begging for attention before the eminent October chill will roll through.

 

“Why’d you start out with a bio major?” Louis asks after he swallows his grapes. “If you always knew you wanted to be a filmmaker, why didn’t you start out as a film major?”

 

“My parents wanted me to go into medicine.”

 

“Why medicine?”

 

Harry folds his hands over his stomach and crosses his ankles.

 

“They are both doctors. They met during their residency. Science and medicine is pretty much all they know about and I figured if they were paying for my education I should at least try it their way.”

 

“And how did that go for you?”

 

Harry barks a laugh. “I lasted one semester before I asked them if I could switch to film. They were hesitant at first because, well, there isn’t really any security in the film industry. There are so many factors that depend on other factors and there’s really no guarantee you’ll make it, you know? But they love me, and they aren’t really unsupportive of what I want to do, so they just told me to do what’ll make me happy.”

 

Louis turns his head to his left to look at the boy.

 

“You should always do what makes you happy. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

 

Harry turns his head to look back.

 

“Why are you doing school then? I mean, you don’t need a degree to be musician, right?”

 

“Technically, no. I figured that I should probably have some type of a back-up. Job security and all that shit?” Louis quirks an eyebrow. They both laugh. “You’re right, though. I’m not really one for academia, but I’m still studying music, which makes me happy,” Louis continues.

 

They both stay silent for a bit, not unpleasantly. The breeze skirts across their skin, the grass around them softly whistling. Wordlessly, Harry reaches for Louis’ hand and brings it up to his mouth. Louis watches as Harry presses a gentle kiss to his fingers.

 

“I like you.”

 

Warm smile.

 

“Good.”

 

 

…

 

 

**OCTOBER**

 

 

Harry answers his ringing phone as he steps out of the shower, smiling at the caller ID.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey, back,” a chuckle sounds on the other end of the line, “What are you doing?”

 

Harry balances his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he wipes away the steam on the bathroom mirror. He leans in close to inspect a growing blemish on his chin.

 

“Just got out of the shower.”

 

“Oh, did you now? Caught you at a good moment then?” The smirk and eyebrow wiggle could be heard even through the phone.

 

Harry rolls his eyes, but blushes nonetheless, “Hush.”

 

Louis laughs, “I’m only half kidding. Anyway, I called because there’s an open mic night tonight at the bar I work at. I’m going to do a set and I was wondering if you wanted to come, maybe? And we’ll hang out after – “

 

“You finally want me to come watch you sing?” Harry backs away from the mirror, eyes wide.

 

“Finally?”

 

“You always say no when I’ve asked to hear you sing.”

 

“Well…” Harry walks into his room and sits on the bed while Louis takes a careful pause, “I sometimes get a bit shy about it with people I know. It’s easier to perform for a bunch of unknown faces. But, I mean,” a laugh, “I guess I kind of plan on keeping you, so you’re bound to hear me play eventually, right? I figure tonight is as good as any.”

 

Louis’ slight insecurity can be heard in his voice but Harry doesn’t care, his grin now breaking his face.

 

“Yeah, I’ll definitely be there tonight. What time should I be there?”

 

“Eight?”

 

“Cool. And Lou? I plan to keep you, too.”

 

 

…

 

 

Harry shows up at the bar just in time to catch what seems to be the set before Louis’. He can see him tuning a guitar on the side of the stage. Ordering himself a soda, having not turned twenty-one yet, he sets himself up in a booth in the middle. He doesn’t want to sit too close to the stage in case it’ll make Louis nervous to see him watching.

 

Soon enough, the band that just finished their set begins to pack up their instruments, one of the bartenders stalking up to the microphone.

 

“Sick, guys! Okay, up next onstage we have Louis Tomlinson!”

 

His boyfriend’s name gathers a sizeable amount of applause and Harry smiles to himself in excitement. Louis must be pretty good.

 

“Hey, everyone,” Louis speaks into the mic, the lights shining down on his sandy fringe, “Thanks for having me back. I don’t have any new stuff finished yet, so it’s covers tonight. Hope you enjoy.”

 

Louis doesn’t seem to have noticed Harry, or if he has, doesn’t make it known, which is okay. Harry doesn’t want to be a distraction. He sips at his drink as Louis begins to play.

 

_“[I think that possibly, maybe, I’m falling for you…Yes, there’s a chance that I’ve fallen quite hard over you…”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyTwC3CbcxU)_

Harry hadn’t known what to expect, really, but he is blown away nonetheless. Louis is talented; really, truly talented. Watching him perform is mesmerizing. Anyone with eyes could notice the passion he has for it. Harry doesn’t know if he wants to hear another person sing ever again.

 

Somewhere in the middle, Louis meets Harry’s eyes and doesn’t leave him for the remainder of his set. It’s as if no one else exists in that bar other than the two of them and that’s exactly the way it should be. Neither of them know, but from their positions across the room, their hearts beat in tandem.

 

 

…

 

 

**NOVEMBER**

 

 

“But I wasn’t ready to leave! Was only just gettin’ started…”

 

Louis struggles to pull his sasquatch of a boyfriend out from the back of their Uber – his boyfriend who is positively _hammered._

 

Louis shakes his head to himself, knowing it had been smart to stop after only two drinks. Someone had to be sober enough to handle the inevitable shit-show that was well on its way. Also, because Harry is hilariously adorable when drunk and he wants to be able to remember this.

 

“It’s almost three in the morning, it’s bedtime. And water – time for lots and lots of water.”

 

Louis gets Harry safely on the curb outside of his apartment building. He puts both hands on the side of the curly boy’s waist, guiding him from behind as they ascend the staircase. They almost make it up successfully until Harry misses the top step, falling in the hallway entrance, flat on his butt.

 

Unable to control himself, Louis throws his head back violently, laughing loudly before leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees. He laughs so hard that tears form behind his eyes.

 

“Whoopsie daisy,” Harry slurs, giggling. He holds his arms wobbly above his head, a silent request for help.

 

“C’mon, baby,” Louis continues to laugh while helping Harry back to his feet. “You’re going to break an ankle if we don’t get you to bed soon.”

 

Louis helps guide Harry down the correct hallway to his apartment number in one piece. He unlocks the door, already having confiscated Harry’s keys, very aware that his boyfriend would have undoubtedly lost them if he had been left responsible. They’re inside and Louis immediately pulls Harry to the bedroom. With some wrangling and a bit of heavy lifting, Louis finally manages to get Harry out of his clothes and under the covers.

 

Louis returns from the bathroom with a full water glass and two painkillers – a preemptive measure. He hands them out to Harry, “Drink.”

 

Harry sucks on his straw, vision spaced out at something near the TV while Louis gently wipes the glitter off his face with a wet cloth. Louis throws the cloth in the hamper and strips his own clothes before turning off the light and climbing into bed on the other side. Harry finishes his water and lets the cup fall to the the floor, a muffled clank sounding against the carpet. He wiggles up against Louis, breathing contently into his neck. It tickles, but Louis doesn’t move away, just smiles. He brings his hand up to thread his fingers gently through Harry’s matted curls.

 

“Did you have a good birthday, babe?”

 

Harry nuzzles further into Louis’ neck, smiling against his skin.

 

“Mhm, the bestest. I can’t believe you surprised me. You even brought Jonny and Alice down from home.”

 

“Well, my boy turned twenty-one. You only do that once.”

 

Sleep encroaching and still tipsy, Harry drags a lazy finger up and down Louis’ forearm, mumbling a quiet, “Thank you.”

 

Louis pecks the top of his hair. “Happy Birthday. Goodnight.”

 

Harry pecks his neck. “Goodnight.”

 

 

…

 

 

Louis’ alarm clock for the morning is Harry violently ripping off the duvet and sprinting to the bathroom, followed by the unmistakable sound of sick.

 

Crawling out of bed, he pads calmly over to the bathroom, kneeling behind his boyfriend crouched over the toilet bowl. Louis holds back his long hair and presses gentle kisses into his shoulder.

 

“You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

 

The vomiting doesn’t stop for about twenty minutes, but Louis doesn’t mind. It’s gross, yes, but Louis just rubs Harry’s back soothingly until his stomach begins to ease up. Eventually it does, and Harry pulls back, resting his face on the cool porcelain. Louis pushes his hair off his face.

 

Harry releases a (bit hilarious) groan. “’M dying.”

 

Louis shakes his head, chuckling softly. He drops a kiss on Harry’s forehead before standing and turning on the shower.

 

“Why don’t you pop in the shower and I’ll make us some breakfast. Something nice and greasy? And I’ll bring you some more Advil.”

 

Louis makes a move toward the bathroom door, but is stopped by a hand on his wrist.

 

Harry looks up from the floor through heavy-lidded eyes. His hair is greasy and sticking up every which way and his face is still a little green. On paper, he’s a hot mess. He still looks beautiful.

 

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

 

Louis gives his hand a squeeze and winks. “Of course, love. Anything for you.”

 

 

…

 

 

**DECEMBER**

 

 

Thanks to the near 10,000 candles Harry insisted on lighting, coupled with the aroma of pie in the oven, the entire apartment smells warm with vanilla and cinnamon. Louis’ laptop sits opened on the carpet next to the coffee table, a yule log blazing and crackling on the screen. Exams are finally over and it’s the last night at school before they depart for their respective hometowns for the winter break. Harry can’t cook to save his life and Louis came over straight from work, so they settle down on the couch with Chinese takeout and _The Holiday_ , Harry’s favorite Christmas movie, which he is _appalled_ that Louis has never seen. Despite his otherwise normally disastrous skills in the kitchen, Harry decides to make the only dessert he can actually bake from scratch – a walnut pie, his mother’s recipe. Louis’ boyfriend is practically a six-year-old though, too impatient to wait until after dessert to open presents. Louis’ only response is a smirk and an eye roll, having learned long before it doesn’t take much for Harry to get what he wants.

 

Currently, they sit across from each other with mugs of tea, next to the plastic Christmas tree Harry bought at Target for half price last summer. It doesn’t have any ornaments or a topper, but it does have a couple strings of rainbow lights, and that is enough. The only present underneath is a small box wrapped in shiny red paper with a silver bow.

 

“Where’s my present?” Louis pouts playfully.

 

Harry giggles, “It’s a bit obvious, so I’ve been hiding it in the back of my closet.”

 

Louis raises his eyebrows, “Hm, my curiosity has peaked.” He reaches for the little red box and places it in Harry’s lap. “For you.”

 

Harry sets the box gently to the side. “Hold on, I want you to open mine first. Be right back.” Louis smiles as he watches Harry scurry down the hallway, shouting, “Close your eyes!”

 

After a few minutes, Louis hears footsteps against the carpet padding back into the living room.

 

“Okay, you can open your eyes.”

 

When Louis does, he zeroes in immediately on the large object in his boyfriend’s hands. He blinks a couple times to make sure his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him. He thinks he might cry.

 

It’s a guitar.

 

An acoustic, midnight blue guitar, with what looks like hand-painted constellations freckled about.

 

“Wha – what? Harry…”

 

“Do you like it?” Harry smiles shyly. “I know you already have one, but I figured most big time musicians must have a collection. I wanted to contribute.”

 

“Do I _like_ it?” Louis asks incredulously, “Baby, I love it!”

 

Harry smiles brighter, sitting back down to his previous spot. He hands the guitar over to Louis, who gingerly picks at the strings, feeling it out.

 

“What are the stars for?” Louis turns it around to see more constellations on the back. He makes out the Little Dipper, Orion’s Belt, and even his sign, Capricorn.

 

“I remembered once you said that you write your best songs under the stars. So, I had my friend Zayn from the art department paint them. That way you can always have the stars with you as inspiration.”

 

Louis’ heart swells. He can’t not reach over and kiss him.  

 

“I love it. So, so much. Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

Louis takes a nervous breath, setting the guitar the side. “Okay, your turn.”

 

Harry reaches over to the red box, excitedly. He takes the silver bow and sticks in playfully on his head. Louis laughs, snapping a picture. Harry opens the lid of the box and peeks inside. Eyes wide, he looks up at Louis briefly before taking out what is inside.

 

It’s a silver heart-shaped locket. There’s an engraving on the outside with a date in September, the day they became official. Louis watches expectantly as Harry opens up the locket and reads the words engraved on the inside.

 

_I love you. –L_

 

“Oh, Lou…”

 

Harry look up with misty green eyes, meeting a pair of misty blue ones.

 

“Do, um – do you like it?” Louis nervously asks the same question Harry had earlier.

 

As his response, Harry leaps from his position into Louis’ lap. He grips Louis’ face with a hand on either side, kissing him once, twice, three times, then another, longer fourth time. He pulls back with the biggest grin Louis has ever seen.

 

“Like it? I _love_ it.” He giggles wetly at the Louis’ response to his own gift. He let a few stray tears fall. Louis felt one go too, Harry wiping it away with his thumb. “I love you, too.”

 

Neither of them let go for a long time. Louis clasps the chain behind Harry's neck, the necklace lying perfectly among his others. 

 

“Merry Christmas, I love you.”

 

“Merry Christmas, I love you.”

 

 

…

 

 

**FEBRUARY**

 

 

For Valentine’s Day, Harry comes home from his film club meeting to his apartment suddenly infested with candles. Vases of peonies, his favorite flower, sit on almost every surface of the tiny living and dining room. He didn’t even know he _had_ that many vases. Red rose and peony petals lay drizzled all over the carpet. In the middle of the newfound flower garden in his apartment, his boyfriend sits on a bar stool with his midnight blue guitar. He looks beautiful. The way he is looking at Harry, still frozen in the doorway, is enough to make the curly brunette’s breath catch. He steps inside and closes the door behind him.

 

 “Babe, what’s all this?”

 

Louis just smiles and begins plucking an unfamiliar tune with his guitar, followed by beautiful, unfamiliar lyrics.

 

For Valentine’s Day, Louis had written him a song.

 

Louis barely finishes the last few chords of the song before Harry jumps into attack mode, immediately pressing wet, teary, and fiery kisses anywhere his lips can reach.

 

They somehow make it all the way to the bedroom without detaching their lips, shutting the door firmly behind them.

 

A minute later, Louis scurries back into the living room, haphazardly blowing out the candles, then races promptly back to bed.

 

 

…

 

 

**JULY**

 

 

Louis sits perched on the bedroom windowsill, one foot dangling out onto the fire escape and a cigarette dangling from his lips. His pen is stalled on the page of his journal, trying to think of the right word to rhyme with “heaven.”

 

Harry hums quietly along to the Lou Reed record spinning, folding and putting away the clean laundry. It’s become a bit of a Tetris game, attempting to fit all of their clothes into Harry’s old dresser ever since Louis moved in at the beginning of the summer. Harry figures it might be time for a closet purge.

 

Louis caps his pen and snaps the journal shut, his signal that he has given up on writing for now. “Hey, babe. What do you have planned tomorrow?”

 

“ _We_ are having brunch with my mother at eleven,” Harry replies, not looking up from his laundry pile.

 

Louis chucks his cigarette butt out the window and turns to his boyfriend with a raised eyebrow. “We?”

 

“I told her we could meet at Rita’s. You’ve been before, right? I think you mentioned you liked the Eggs Benedict…”

 

“I thought I mentioned I wanted a _relaxing_ weekend?”

 

Harry looks up, but only to roll his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic.”

 

“Did you tell her I was coming?”

 

“Of course, she wants to see you.”

 

Louis jumps down from the window and pads over to his boy, arms crossed over his chest. “Those were her words, huh?”

 

Harry rolls his eyes again, adding a playful nudge, “Come off it.”

 

“Your mom hates me.”

 

“She doesn’t hate you! She just…”

 

“Hates me?” Louis laughs and cocks his hip.

 

“No…”

 

Louis smirks cheekily, stepping closer to Harry – still folding – and places his hands of the sides of his hips, squeezing affectionately at the tiny love handles.

 

“Hates that I like eating her son more than her walnut pie?”

 

Harry’s folding stalls, momentarily fighting off a blush before matching his smirk. He laces his arms around Louis’ neck, pulling him closer.

 

“The cigarettes, too.” He plucks the extra one tucked behind Louis’ ear and sticks it between his lips, waggling his eyebrows.

 

Louis just stares at his lips. “She’s right about one thing. I am a bad influence on you.”

 

Louis turns them swiftly around, letting them fall together on top the laundry-littered bed. He pins Harry beneath him, tickling and peppering kisses everywhere while Harry kicks, laughs, and squeals.

 

“Lou! Stop, these clothes are clean!”

 

 

…

 

 

**SEPTEMBER**

 

 

To be funny, they try to recreate everything just the way it had gone the first time. Louis tries to be late. They wear the same exact outfits, go to the same restaurant, order the same food and drinks. They retrace their steps, but unfortunately, you can’t plan disaster. So naturally, everything goes perfectly. And they both decide that had their first date gone as planned, it would have definitely been too boring for them. They don’t want to change anything about that first night. Maybe they wouldn’t be where they are now.

 

Under twinkling street lights next to the river, they stand close, wrapped up in each other. Being slightly shorter, Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry pecks the top of Louis’ head, while Louis presses his nose into Harry’s chest, breathing in his smell.  

 

“I hope you know how incredibly in love with you I am.”

 

Harry sounds a content noise, leaning down, tucking his face and nodding into Louis’ neck. “Promise you’ll never to let me go, okay? Love you too much.”

 

Louis squeezes tighter. “I promise.”

 

A kiss. “Happy Anniversary.”

 

Another one. “Happy Anniversary.”

 

 

…

 

 

**NOVEMBER**

 

 

Louis has been slaving in the kitchen for what seems like hours. He had gotten his shift covered at the bar so he could come home and clean the apartment and cook before Harry comes back from his film club meeting. He became president this year, which means he stays later than he used to. Which is not that big of a deal, just sometimes he’ll come home tired and stressed out after a long school day, plus hours of shooting and editing. The club has been working on a short film for the past couple of weeks and Harry’s been going a bit crazy about having it finished by next Friday in order meet some festival deadline. Which is why this year, there won’t be any raging party or bar crawl. Knowing how exhausted he’ll be once he trudges home, Louis planned a relaxing birthday dinner, just the two of them. A night in complete with a roast and potatoes, red wine, candles (not too many this time, their landlord is onto them), Bon Iver, and a bubble bath for later. Also, his birthday present – two plane tickets to New York for New Year’s. Louis’ had to work extra shifts for weeks to be able to afford them, but he knows the look on Harry’s face will make it all worth it.

 

The food is done and everything for the night is set up. All that’s left is for Harry to show up.

 

Which should have been almost thirty minutes ago.

 

Louis tells himself not be worried, but he really, really is.

 

Harry is an extremely punctual person. Not to mention that it’s his birthday. Surely, he’d want to be home as soon as possible. Maybe he got held up with the club? Maybe the other members wanted to treat him for his birthday? Only, if anything ever changes in his schedule, Harry always makes sure to let Louis know. If something changed, he would have gotten a text and some stupid emoji saying so.

 

There are no messages on his phone.

 

After it’s been almost an hour, Louis starts calling. He calls three times, five, nine. Each call ending in with, “ _Hi! You’ve reached Harry Styles! I can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave a…_ ”

 

Pacing around the room, Louis calls each of Harry’s friends. He calls his boss. He calls the vice president of the film club. No one has heard from him since he left the meeting to go home, nearly an hour ago.

 

An hour passes.

 

Two.

 

Three.

 

Three and half hours after Harry’s suppose to be home, Louis is borderline hysteric. He’s just about to give up and call the police when his phone starts ringing.

 

_Anne Styles._ Harry’s mom.

 

“Hello?” Louis answers shakily.

 

“Louis, honey?”

 

Louis can tell by the edge in her voice that something is very wrong.

 

“What’s wrong? Anne, Harry hasn’t come home tonight…and – and he’s not answering his phone. No one knows where he is – “

 

“There was a car accident.”

 

Louis freezes.

 

“I got a call from the hospital. He was driving home and apparently when he was turning, someone ran a red light, running right into him.”

 

Louis’ ears start to feel hot and his chest restricts. He might throw up.

 

Harry had just gotten that car not too long ago. It was an early graduation present from his parents. Anne is still talking, but it’s hard to hear over the ringing.

 

“We can’t get there tonight. There was a bad storm the other night and the main road is closed – “

 

“I’ll go,” Louis interrupts, “What hospital?”

 

“St. Andrew’s, downtown.”

 

“I’m on my way.”

 

Louis is about to hang up when he hears Anne again.

 

“You be careful, too, honey. Okay?”

 

If it was any other time, Louis might feel pretty good at Harry’s mother being semi-caring toward him, but now is not the time. His boyfriend was in a car accident and is lying in a hospital bed all alone somewhere.

 

He races to the room to grab his shoes and a random jacket. He grabs his keys from the hook. Who cared about the food? He blew out the candles hours ago.

 

He locks the door with shaky hands and runs as fast as he can to the bus stop.

 

 

…

 

 

Louis isn’t allowed to see Harry for another hour since he isn’t family. He tries explaining to the nurses that his parents couldn’t make it, but they still shake their heads. They’ll give him updates on his condition – he’s in surgery apparently – but Louis won’t be able to go in and see him for a while.

 

Eventually, he gets some answers.

 

Harry has a fractured wrist, two broken ribs and minor concussion. He also had a dislocated hip, which he the needed surgery for. It sounds horrible, and the idea of Harry being in any pain absolutely _kills_ Louis, but it could have been so much worse and that’s what is important.

 

_He’s alive. These are fixable. He’s going to be okay._

 

He just wants to see him.

 

Louis needs him.

 

 

…

 

 

It’s hours later, far too early in the morning. Louis’ been sat in a plastic hospital chair next to Harry’s bed for a while. It’s technically past visiting hours, but one of the nurses took one look at Louis and let it slide for one night. Harry is sleeping, been in and out ever since Louis came in.

 

He combs his fingers through Harry’s curls, softly brushing the hair off his bruised forehand. Louis almost choked when he first saw him. The sight of his boyfriend covered in dark bruises and bandages brought him instantly to tears. He knows he never wants to see the boy he loves this broken ever, _ever_ again.

 

Harry’s eyes begin to flutter open.

 

Louis brushes a finger softly against his cheek, “Hey, sleepyhead.”

 

“Hey,” Harrys squeaks, voice raspy, “Sorry, I fell asleep on you.”

 

“No, baby. Don’t apologize, you need your rest.”

 

Harry tries to sit up a little, but winces.

 

“Hey, no. Don’t push yourself too much.”

 

Harry just nods, laying his head back on the pillow. Louis takes his non-broken wrist and laces their fingers. He brings them up to his lips, kissing them softly.

 

“You have no idea how relieved I am that you’re okay.”

 

Harry looks up at him with sleepy eyes for a moment before his lips quirk in a lazy smirk. “So is this a thing now? Me getting messed up on my birthday, and you having to take care of me?”

 

Louis chuckles, kissing his knuckles again and again.

 

“I’ll do it every year for forever if I have to.”

 

 

…

 

 

**JANUARY**

 

 

Harry comes home to find Louis perched on his usual spot on the windowsill, cigarette between two lips and a (quite intensely) furrowed brow. His journal is open, but looks untouched.

 

“Trying to do some writing?”

 

Upon hearing his boyfriend’s voice, Louis’ brow and shoulders instantly relax a bit. He turns to look inside, giving him a small smile in greeting.

 

“Trying being the operative word. I’ve been stuck on this one for weeks. Can’t decide if I should just scratch it completely and move on.”

 

Harry hums, dropping his bag on the floor. He sits gently on the bed, crossing his legs and plays with a loose thread on his sweater.

 

“Maybe just walk away from it for a while? Give your brain a break. I’m sure you’ll find more inspiration eventually.”

 

Louis notices Harry’s fidgeting. “You okay, babe?”

 

Harry stalls for a moment, still looking at his sweater. He tries to find the right words to say, but his anxiety is making it difficult.

 

“Do you think I could talk to you about something?”

 

Louis stubs out his cigarette, climbs back inside and crawls on top of the bed. He grabs Harry’s hand, squeezing it comfortingly. “Talk about what?”

 

“Um, future stuff?”

 

At that, Louis sits up straighter, but doesn’t let go of his hand.

 

“Okay, yeah. What about it?”

 

“Well,” Harry takes a deep breath before he finally makes eye contact with Louis and continues, “I was talking to my film professor – the one who has been helping me put together my portfolio? He was telling me about his friend who works for this film production company. He brought me into his office today and was telling me all about the company and everything – and it honestly sounds like a dream, Lou. And then he showed me this amazing letter of recommendation he wrote for me for their internship program. And…I think I want to apply.” Harry pauses to gauge Louis’ reaction.

 

“Baby, what? That’s amazing!” Louis lights up with excitement, gripping both of Harry’s elbows. “You should totally apply! That’s your foot in the door! This should be happy, why aren’t you happy?” His excitement grew to confusion when his boyfriend’s frown remains where it is.

 

“The internship is in London.”

 

Louis pauses, slowly sitting back.

 

“Oh.”

 

Harry grabs his hand again, holding it tightly between both of his.

 

“I – nothing might come of it, okay? But, this is an amazing opportunity. I thought I’d have to wait years before I’d get a job in the industry. But I’m talking about it with you because I love you. You’re so important to me and I plan on having you in my life for a long time, so wherever I go after graduation involves you.”

 

Louis takes his free hand and tucks a stray curl behind Harry’s ear. It’s one of those things that Louis has learned helps with his boyfriend’s anxiety.

 

“Hey, love. You don’t have to explain it to me. I’m sorry I reacted like that, I just wasn’t expecting it. But do you remember what I’m always telling you?” Louis asks. “You need to do what makes you happy. And I can tell, just by the way you lit up when talking it, _this_ would make you happy. No way would I ever want to interfere with that.”

 

Harry makes a small smile, squeezing his hand again. Louis always understands.

 

“And if you go to London, we’d work it out. I know we would. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m not letting you go just because of a little distance.”

 

“You’d want to try long distance?”

 

“I’m in this for the long haul. If anything, it could show us how strong we are together.” Louis leans forward to peck soft lips. “I don’t think we should worry about any of that just yet though. It’s like you said – nothing might come of it? So we can cross that bridge when we know.”

 

Harry just nods. “Yeah, I’ll wait to see if I hear back.”

 

Louis steals one more kiss before sliding off the bed and grabbing one of Harry’s sweatshirts from the chair. “I’m starving. What do you feel like for dinner? Thai, maybe?”

 

Louis pads out of the room and down the hall. Harry huffs, falling back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling fan. A tiny knot still rests in his stomach.

 

 

…

 

 

**APRIL**

 

 

 

“When do you think I’ll hear back about the London job?”

 

They’re in the park, spring settling in and the weather finally warm enough for a picnic. Harry’s been stuck on the same page of _Pride and Prejudice_ for ten minutes. Louis smokes and strums lazily at his guitar.

 

“How long are you usually supposed to wait to hear from a job?”

 

Louis hums in thought, “I don’t know.”

 

Harry snorts, “Helpful.”

 

“What? I don’t know. I’ve never really applied to any real job before. I already knew Perrie before I came here for school so I didn’t have to apply for my job at the bar. Maybe you should start looking at other options, just in case.”

 

Harry chooses to ignore that, attempting to turn his attention back to his book. That lasts only half minute, though.

 

“Have you given any more thought about it? What you’re going to do after graduation? You always brush me off when I ask about it.”

 

Louis shrugs, lighting another cigarette. He’s been smoking more often lately.

 

“Not really. Maybe L.A.? That’s where struggling musicians go to get discovered, right?”

 

Harry raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

 

“Well, that’s what a lot of people do. I guess I just don’t know where to start.”

 

“Did you make a demo tape like you said you were going to?”

 

“No, the studio space and recording equipment were too expensive.”

 

“How much is too expensive?”

 

Louis goes back to strumming. “A few hundred.”

 

“Didn’t you just buy a new leather jacket? Couldn’t you have used that money to record the demo instead?”

 

Louis stops strumming. He looks up at Harry, eyes squinting. “Why are you getting on me about this?”

 

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know, Lou. I want to make sure that if I’m away in London, you’ll have something. You’ve always helped me get to where I wanted and I want to do the same for you.”

 

Louis thinks for a moment, then puts his guitar down on the blanket. He crawls over to Harry, pulling him close.

 

“I have an idea.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“If you don’t hear back about London, let’s move to L.A. together.”

 

Harry’s lips part slightly, “Move to L.A. together?”

 

“Yeah!” Louis smiles brightly, “Think it about. It makes sense, actually. Hollywood is the entertainment capital of the country. You’ll conquer the film industry and I’ll be the next big thing in the music circuit. Can’t you imagine a cute little apartment near the beach? Walks along the water at night, drinking green juices, and crystal shopping on the weekends?”

 

Harry snorts a laugh.

 

“So what do you think?”

 

Harry is quiet, thinking. But after a moment, a small smile spreads across his face.

 

“Okay, let’s go to L.A.” Louis positively beams. “If I don’t hear back from London,” he adds.

 

Louis knocks him over, attacking his face with smoky kisses.

 

“We can start looking online for places to rent this weekend.” Louis presses a final kiss to his boy’s lips before retrieving his guitar again, humming Harry’s song.

 

 

…

 

 

**JUNE**

 

 

Louis stands in a circle with some of the other music majors, each clad in their caps and gowns. His parents decide to head back to their hotel for a bit after endless rounds of pictures, wanting freshen up a bit before going out to dinner later with Harry and his parents.

 

Speaking of Harry:

 

“Lou, where’s Haz? I swear I saw him a few minutes ago, I wanted to get a picture,” Niall, their mutual friend, asks. Their other friend, Liam, nods in agreement.

 

“Um,” Louis looks around for his boyfriend, but comes up short, “I don’t know. I think he had a phone call. Probably family or something. He’ll be back.”

 

As if on cue, Louis hears the echoing shouts of his boyfriend calling his name.

 

“Lou! LOUIS!”

 

He turns around to see Harry running toward their group at full speed, dashing across the grassy field. The first first few buttons of his shirt have been undone, the sides of his collar flapping wildly. His cap stays miraculously in place – he probably pinned it. Louis notices his borderline manic expression, laughing fondly at his wide eyes. He also runs funny.

 

As soon as he gets close enough for them to hear, he shouts, “Lou! They called! London called, I got the job!”

 

Louis opens his arms just in time for Harry to snatch him up, wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist. Harry’s glowing. He is beaming and it’s the happiest Louis thinks he’s ever seen him. It’s contagious and he can feel himself grinning to match.

 

“Baby, that’s amazing! I’m so, _so_ proud of you.”

 

Harry grips Louis’ face, kissing him fiercely. Their friends around them whistle and holler, Liam and Niall undoubtedly taking lots of photos. Neither of them of care, though. In that moment, they are two people in love feeling on top of the world.

 

Reality doesn’t need to sink in until later.

 

 

…

 

 

**AUGUST**

 

 

 

The summer is intense.

 

Late mornings, monkey-limbed cuddles never showing signs of release. Afternoons by the pool, or their favorite picnic spot in the park. TV dinners on the couch, spending hours at night in bed wrapped up in each other. Marathon sex. 

 

They pack in as much love as some couples do in years into one singular summer. They know what is looming over their heads, never not being able to feel it. It is this bright big elephant in the room but they choose to ignore it. All that matters in the moment is them, each other.

 

They make the mistake of never really talking about it.

 

Because of this, the ride to the airport is heavy. Louis’ driving playlist plays softly, filling up the silence in the car. He had made it earlier in the summer when they went on a road trip to the coast. Neither one them has spoken yet – each not sure what to say, and even so, neither wanting to feel it until the last possible moment before it’s unavoidable. Harry’s leg feels warm underneath Louis’ hand as they enter the airport parking garage.

 

They unload the bags from the trunk and make their way inside. Words are still absent as Harry checks his luggage and scans his passport. It all continues until they reach the lines for security.

 

Harry finally braves looking at his boyfriend, taking in a deep, shaking breath.

 

“Thanks for taking me.”

 

Louis fidgets with his sleeves, eyes on the floor. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss this.”

 

Harry doesn’t say anything for a moment, before:

 

“I’ll miss you.”

 

It’s just barely above a whisper, but it breaks and Louis hears it. He hears it, and his chest constricts because he feels it, too. He looks up from the floor in time to see the tears fall from Harry’s eyes.

 

“Oh, baby…”

 

Louis surges forward, scooping his boy in his arms, tight, tighter. Nobody likes the goodbye scenes. They’re cheesy and sad, and Louis hates being in one even more.

 

Harry breathes in deeply from where his face is buried in Louis’ hair. He takes in his smell, sweet caramel that he knows he won’t have for very much longer.

 

It doesn’t seem fair – falling so crazily in love with someone, then having to say goodbye. You start to think about all the time you wasted, all the small moments taken for granted – of small fights and boring nights in. When really, that time should have been spent doing _more._ Holding on tighter, loving _more._ Of sunrises against white bed sheets, of morning breath, of all those episodes you need to catch up on because you waited to watch them together.

 

They love each other enough to choose this – to fight distance and the time differences and the weighted absences, but…

 

They should have talked about it more.

 

Harry pulls back slightly, despite how painful it feels, to check his watch.

 

“Babe, I’ve only got a few more minutes.”

 

Louis nods, pulling back and sniffling, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Yeah, okay.”

 

The sentences waiting on tongues are too difficult to start. Another wasted minute.

 

Louis takes one big, deep breath. He stares right into Harry, grabbing hold of both of his hands.

 

“I love you. I have to say that first. I love you so much. But, also remember how _proud_ I am of you. You’re on your way to making your dreams come true and I am so, so proud to love you.” He pauses to clear his throat, composing himself to the best of his ability. Harry cries silently, listening. “I’m not going to lie. I really don’t want to be here right now. I don’t want to have to do this, to say goodbye to you. But this is what you need, this is your future. And we can do this. I _want_ to do this because you matter so much more to me than some stupid Atlantic Ocean and all that it symbolizes.”

 

Harry barks a wet laugh, “I love you, too. That’s not gonna change.”

 

Louis playfully bumps his hip, “It better not.”

 

“Never.” Harry shakes his head. “You have to promise me that you’ll take care of yourself too, okay? I don’t want to be thousands of miles away and be worrying about you.”

 

“You’ll worry anyway,” Louis smirks, trying not feel how heavy this all feels. Harry doesn’t buy it, though.

 

“Lou, promise me.”

 

“Okay,” he concedes, “I promise.”

 

Another glance at the watch. It’s time to go.

 

“I – I,” Harry tries to start, but a sob escapes instead.

 

Louis holds his face in both of his hands, bringing their mouths together. It’s rushed and wet but it’s what they need. Louis detaches from his mouth before pressing gentle, needy kisses to his face. Cheeks, nose, left eyelash, right eyelash. Temple, then back to lips.

 

Harry has to be the one to take the first step.

 

“I’ll call you as soon as I land, okay? And then once I’m all settled and everything.”

 

“Please. Call me whenever you can. I’ll be waiting.”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you.”

 

One last kiss to the lips, then Harry picks up his carry-on from the floor. He turns around to wave before finally going through security.

 

Louis watches him leave, arms crossed tight over his chest. He feels heavy.

 

They should have talked about it.

 

 

…

 

 

**SEPTEMBER**

 

 

After a minute of buffering, the connection finally came through, green and blue eyes meeting brightly through computer screens.

 

“Hi, baby!” Harry greets, happily.

 

Louis smiles back, “Hey, you,” he pauses immediately. “Haz! Where the fuck's your hair?”

 

“Oh, yeah! Cut it. Do you like it?”

 

Louis chuckles softly, “I do. Barely recognize you. You look beautiful, though.”

 

“Thank you, so do you.” Harry blows a kiss, “Happy Anniversary.”

 

“Happy Anniversary, my love.”

 

“Two whole years. I can’t believe it.”

 

“I can. I was pretty much sold on you once you did your Owen Wilson impression fifteen minutes after meeting you.”

 

Harry laughs, covering his mouth, “Oh my god, I forgot about that.” His grin is wide, until it falls ever slightly. “I wish you were here with me tonight.”

 

Louis sighs. “I wish I was with you every night. Let’s not make this sad, please?”

 

Harry runs a hand through his now short hair, nodding. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay. I love you.”

 

“I love you, too. How’s everything stateside?”

 

“Good, nothing really to report. Tell me about you, more about London. Have you made any friends yet?”

 

“Yeah! It’s so amazing here, it’s like this city was made for me. There’s so much history and things to do, and so many people. Oh, babe, you _have_ to come visit when you can. I’ll show you around and introduce you to my flat mates and my new work friends. Oh! And the music scene here is brilliant, you’d absolutely love it, I promise.”

 

“That sounds amazing, Haz. Yeah, we’ll see.”

 

 

…

 

 

**OCTOBER**

 

 

 

“Hey, Lou!”

 

“There you are. I keep missing you.”

 

“I know, I’m sorry I didn’t get your last call. There was this concert we went to last minute, maybe you’ve heard of them? The Struts? They were good, I think you’d like them.”

 

“No, I haven’t heard of them. That sounds cool.”

 

“I keep telling you, I think the music scene here is so much more your style than L.A. More real, less corporate.”

 

“Oh, nice. How’s work?”

 

“So great, Lou. I’m only just starting out so I don’t have any, like, big responsibilities yet but I’m learning so much by just watching everything and getting to be in the rooms where all the magic happens. Nick and I got help out on the set of the new Avengers movie the other day!”

 

“I’m so happy for you, baby. Sounds like you’re really loving it there.”

 

“I really am. It’s so weird, I genuinely think this is where I’m meant to be. Did you know that after working here for five years I can apply for citizenship?”

 

“Citizenship? Why would you – “

 

“Oh – hold on, Lou. I gotta let Nick in – coming!”

 

“Who? Wait, why are you drawing whiskers on your face?”

 

“Sorry about that. What? Oh, Nick and I are going out to this club in SoHo. They’re doing an event for Halloween. Have whatever you want in the fridge, Grimmy! I’ll be ready in a sec!”

 

“You’re going right now?”

 

“Yeah, I’m so sorry. Really shitty timing. I’ll call tomorrow and we can talk for real? Same time? I want to hear about your week.”

 

“Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

 

“Okie doke. Talk to you tomorrow. Love you! Miss you!”

 

“Love you. Miss you, too.”

 

 

…

 

 

**NOVEMBER**

 

 

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey.”

 

On one side of the ocean, Louis cleans up lunch in the kitchen. On the other, Harry sits in bed with a cup of chamomile.

 

“How was your day?” Louis shouts over the flow of the faucet, his laptop sitting open on the island counter.

 

“Pretty good. Worked on some stuff at home, groceries. Nick and I got dinner a bit ago. What about you? What do you have planned for the day?”

 

“Nothing, really. I don’t work tonight.”

 

Harry pauses. He sits upright on his bed, setting his cup down.

 

“Um, didn’t you say you were going to quit soon?”

 

Louis keeps scrubbing a basically-clean plate and Harry can tell he’s stalling.

 

“I don’t know. I think I want to stay a little longer.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

Louis finally turns around. He wipes the suds from his hands before walking over to his computer.

 

“Perrie really needs the help. I don’t want to leave her hanging.”

 

“What about L.A.?”

 

“What about it?”

 

“Are you still going to go?”

 

“I – “

 

“Because, you were practically begging to go for _months._ You were so excited and everything.”

 

Louis shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, Haz. Maybe I’ll go at some point.”

 

Harry stares at his digital boyfriend incredulously. “Louis, what have you even been doing while I’ve been here? Graduation was months ago.”

 

“I’ve been _working,_ Harry. L.A. is expensive. And it’s not like I’ll just show up and get handed a record deal.”

 

“Well, no, but have you even been making _any_ music?” Harry argues. “When was the last time you wrote a song?”

 

Louis tries to keep his breath level, his lips pursed in a thin line.

 

“I’ve been blocked lately.”

 

Harry shakes his head.

 

“What?” Louis prompts, annoyed.

 

“I – I don’t know. You used to be so passionate about your music and it just doesn’t sound like…”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Do you want to do something else? You know it’s okay to change your mind – “

 

“Who ever said I changed my mind? Music is my whole life, you know that!”

 

“Do I?” Harry questions, eye raised. “You say that, but you never do anything about it.”

 

“It’s hard, Harry! Not everyone can have their dream job land in their lap right after graduating.”

 

“That’s not fair. This isn’t about me. This is about you. You say you have all these dreams, that you want to sell out stadiums and win awards, but every time I talk to you, you’re just sitting around at home or working in the bar. You’re not writing anything, fine. People get writer’s block. Send out demos...Reach out to people, sign up for some gigs. Make a fucking YouTube channel, I don’t know! _Do_ something."

 

“Just back off, Harry,” Louis growls.

 

Harry ignores him, instead trying to look directly into his eyes all the way from across the world. “How do you expect to achieve your dream if you don’t even try?”

 

Louis squeezes his eyes shut. This isn’t a fight he wants to be having right now. Or at all.

 

“Why do you care so much about this?”

 

“Why do I _care?_ ” Harry asks, taken aback. “Louis, I _love_ you. I want you to succeed, I want you to have everything you want.”

 

“Well, you’re not really helping. Just kind of making me feel like shit, honestly.”

 

Harry scoffs. “Okay. Real mature, Lou. I’m not trying to make you feel like shit, I just know what you’re capable of and it’s frustrating to see you sit around and waste it all.”

 

Louis crosses his arms. He doesn’t want his insecurities to shine through, even though he knows Harry already sees it. Nothing gets past him.

 

“Sorry that I don’t meet your stupid standards you’ve apparently set for me. Didn’t mean to disappoint,” Louis bites.

 

Harry shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, I’m tired and I’m not in the mood for this. It’s late and I have an early breakfast with Nick tomorrow.”

 

“Ah, _Nick,”_ Louis huffs.

 

Harry scowls at him. “What was that tone for?”

 

“You sure seem to spend a lot of your time with this _Nick._ You never seem to shut up about him.”

 

“Are you being serious? Are you jealous?”

 

“I don’t know, should I be?”

 

Harry blinks, his mouth open. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are being like this?”

 

“You didn’t answer that.”

 

“ _No,_ ” Harry practically barks. “Nick is just a friend, that’s it. I can’t believe I even have to assure you about something like that.”

 

“Well, _I’m sorry,_ for questioning a little bit when my boyfriend is living on a different continent, spending all his time with some other guy that he barely checks in with me anymore. Always blowing off my calls to hang out with him.”

 

Harry stares back at the screen, his eyes painted with obvious hurt.

 

“Louis, when have I _ever_ given you a reason not to trust me?”

 

Louis doesn’t answer, instead focusing his gaze out of the kitchen window.

 

“Whatever, Lou. I’m going to bed. Don’t call until you’ve figured out your shit.”

 

Call ends.

 

 

…

 

 

_“Hi, you’ve reached Harry Styles! I can’t get to the phone right now. Leave a message and I’ll return your call. Thanks!”_ Beep.

 

Louis sits on the living room couch, knees tucked into his chest. He rests his chin on his knee, one of Harry’s old blankets draped around his shoulders. The sherbet sky peeks through the blinds, the only light source in the apartment. He hates this apartment now. There’s too much to remind him of what he’s missing.

 

“Hi, baby. I know you’re still mad at me about the other day. I’m sorry. I do trust you, of course I do. I just miss you so much. So, _so_ much that it’s been driving me insane, making me mean. You were right, you’re always right.” He sighs, closing his eyes to gate the tears forming. “Hope you’re having fun tonight. Hope you’re safe this year…”

 

He laughs wetly. Deep breath.

 

“Happy Birthday, love. Hope twenty-three is treating you well so far. I love you.”

 

 

…

 

 

**DECEMBER**

 

 

 

Harry comes home for the first time for Christmas. Louis picks him up from the airport, arms open and ready.

 

They hug for a long time.

 

Neither of them voice it, but it doesn’t feel the same.

 

Harry has to go back to work before New Year’s, claiming the new film his team has taken on (he can’t disclose which film) needed to schedule reshoots, so they don’t have as much time together as Louis expects.

 

They try to make the best of it.

 

Christmas is a quiet affair. They spend Christmas Eve together, knowing they’ll go home to their own families for Christmas morning. Louis cooks them dinner in their (his?) apartment. They sit by Harry’s Target tree and exchange presents, followed by walnut pie and _The Holiday._

 

It’s nice and Louis breathes better than he has in months having Harry back in his arms, snoring softly. They curl up together like they used to. The only difference this time is that they drift throughout the night, seemingly used to sleeping alone now.

 

Louis wishes he could focus more. He wishes he could be more present, enjoy his time with Harry while he still has him here. But all he can think about is him leaving again.

 

He takes Harry back to the airport on the 28th.

 

They part with a single kiss and awkward goodbyes and empty promises to call.

 

They should have talked about it.

 

 

…

 

 

**FEBRUARY**

 

 

Louis has been dreading this call for months. He’s been expecting it for a while, that’s no lie. But that doesn’t mean his world doesn’t shatter, the air in his lungs doesn’t completely escape when it happens.

 

They haven’t talked since Christmas.

 

They’ve texted here and there – once on New Year’s, another time on Louis’ birthday. But he hasn’t seen his face or heard his voice in over a month.

 

He knows he isn’t completely innocent. He could have tried to call, which he hasn’t. He’s been afraid of what the distance is doing to them. He’s afraid of the empty conversations, of feeling like Harry has more important things to be doing now, more interesting people to talk to.

 

It’s a shitty excuse and he should have fought harder. He promised Harry he’d never let him go. And yet, he let his own insecurities about being left behind get the best of him. He was afraid of losing him. Loving him isn’t enough. He’s lost him anyway.

 

Which is why, when he hears his FaceTime notification ring, he knows.

 

Clicking the answer button, the love of his life pops up on the screen. Louis takes as much of him in as he can, trying to commit him to memory. His hair is longer now, beginning to curl around his ears. Louis wonders if he’s trying to grow it out again.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey.”

 

Louis notices it right away. And it fucking _hurts._

 

“You – you’re not wearing your locket.”

 

Harry brings up a hand to his chest, the silver pendant that hung from his neck for two years now absent amongst his collection. He takes a deep breath.

 

“Please don’t do this, Hazza.”

 

Harry squeezes his eyes, biting his lip. He’s hurting, too, it’s obvious. Neither of them wanted this to fail. Still, neither of them fought nearly as hard as they promised they would.

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

“ _Please._ ”

 

Tears well up in his eyes, blurring his vision. He tries his hardest not to let them fall. He knows they will, but just not yet.

 

“Louis, please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

 

“Tell me what I can do to fix this. Tell me, I’ll – we’ll – “

 

“We’ll do what?” Harry shrugs his shoulders, defeated, his own tears present. “I’m in London. I’m working a lot. I need to go out constantly so I can make friends instead of staying in and moping about how much I miss you. And you – I’m holding you back. I can’t handle the idea of you sitting at home waiting for me to call, when you could be going out and making music, doing what you love.”

 

“I don’t mind, though.” Louis presses, “I’d wait forever for your call if it means I’ll get to hear your voice.”

 

Harry shakes his head, broken sadness in his eyes.

 

“I can’t be your only thing, Lou.”

 

 He’s flailing. Louis searches his brain for words that will get him to change his mind. The tears fall.

 

“But, you’re it for me! I – I know it. That’s the only thing in my life I’m sure of. And you feel the same way, I _know_ you do.”

 

Louis wishes he could erase the look of defeat and regret painted over Harry’s face from his memory.

 

“I think maybe we just found each other at the wrong time.”

 

“No,” Louis shakes his head, “There’s never been anything wrong about us. You can’t just call the last two and half years _wrong._ ”

 

“Lou…”

 

“You make me breathe easier.”

 

Harry wipes at his eyes. They’re red and puffy. It’s almost midnight in London.

 

“We’re not working anymore. This isn’t us. This isn’t real anymore.”

 

“I don’t believe that.”

 

Two minutes pass in silence, neither knowing what else to say.

 

Finally, Harry looks directly at Louis. He’s never felt so distant from the boy he loves with his everything.

 

“You told me once that I should always do what makes me happy…We aren’t happy, Louis.”

 

That’s what does it. That’s how he knows it’s done.

 

He wishes more than anything he never said those words.

 

“Okay.”

 

Two deep breaths, one blue, one green.

 

Everything hurts.

 

“I’ll always love you,” Harry starts, “and I’m always going to be rooting for you.”

 

Louis nods, because that’s all he can really do.

 

“I’ll always love you, too.”

 

“Guess this is goodbye.”

 

“Guess so.”

 

A final teary smile, “Thank you for loving me.”

 

Louis returns his smile, because he says the truth.

 

“It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

 

 

…

 

 

**SEPTEMBER – THREE YEARS LATER**

 

 

 

The clock strikes two o’clock, the lunch rush finally dwindling down. Baristas wipe their brows, shoulders relaxing as the rest of their shifts should be much calmer. A Beatles song filters through the shop speakers, adding to the chorus of blenders and typing.

 

Louis gave up on Starbucks ever since he arrived in London two months ago. He’s claimed the Pret-A-Manger around the corner from the studio as his new caffeine spot. Extra caffeine is a side-effect of late night writing sessions, but it’s definitely worth the shakes and eye twitches.

 

He checks his notifications idly while waiting for his drink.

 

“I have an iced coconut latte!”

 

Louis goes to grab the cup from the handoff plane, when he feels his hand brush another set of fingers.

 

“Oops!”

 

He looks up from his phone and – oh.

 

_Oh._

 

He meets a pair of wide, green eyes. A color he hasn’t seen in years, but knows every detail of – has never forgotten.

 

_Harry._

 

Harry stares back, obviously shocked.

 

Then a smile.

 

“Hi.”

 

Louis let’s out a breath he must have been holding for three years.

 

“Hi.”

 

He looks at the iced coffee in Harry’s hand, laughing at the irony.

 

“What happened to decaf?”

 

The curly brunette cackles at the cheesy memory.

 

It’s the right time.

 

 

**THE END**

 


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